


Keep Runnin'

by ScalesNailsBales



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Past Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8872438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScalesNailsBales/pseuds/ScalesNailsBales
Summary: Sam, or Scotty, is a low-grade punk in search for some sense of hope and home to belong to.  On her journey, however, she finds herself mixed up with Trevor Philips.  Perhaps she'll find what she's been looking for in the Trevor Philips Industries among the blood, drugs, and shattered relationships.





	1. Dust and Dirt

_Fuck, it’s hot._

The midday sun burned through my helmet, causing my brow and chin to seep with sweat. Soft whirlwinds of dust blew against my visor as I drove through the Senora Desert highway. The area was quiet and lonely for the most part; the only inhabitant was the occasional trailer truck that would appear in the landscape and eventually disappear beyond the horizon. The sounds that polluted the untouched, dry desert was the humming coming from my black Nemesis dirt bike. It had some bruises inflicted over the years, but it could still tear down the road as fast as the day I got it.

I’ll need it for today.

I was scouting for the right spot to take my chances. As I passed the occasional gas stations, I could usually find a reason why it wasn’t the one to move in on.

_Too many people around._

_Not enough escape routes._

_Security cameras seem to be functioning._

Then, I found it. A mirage in the desert: a lonely, beaten down little station with just one car in the parking lot, a tired red Bodhi that probably belonged to the owner. The building was miles from any nearby residents. Police would have a hard time just getting to the place, let alone catching up with me. This is where I’ll take my chance.

I wasn’t new to this kind of life. In fact, it was my life. Holding up, pick-pocketing, hustling, and working under-the-table. It wasn’t the American Dream, and it sure wasn’t honest, but I had to survive somehow. It just so happens that my survival depends on the destruction of others.

I stepped off my bike with my small caliber pistol and buffle bag strapped over my shoulder. Dressed in my heavy leather jacket and dirty jeans, I could pull off looking like a man if I kept my helmet on. That way, I may look more intimidating An old trick I always used. My field-of-vision was limited by keeping it on, but it was a good compromise in order to conceal my identity. Laying low and staying out of sight was why I was able to stay out of any real trouble over the years. My skills laid in my ability to disappear.

As I marched through the swinging down, a soft chime from the doorbell sung through the open room. I only had a few seconds to skim through the station: no red light security cameras - just placed there to scare off freshman thugs, hardly any stock on the shelves, and a crooked restroom sign hanging in the corner of the room. A dark-skinned man was dozed behind the cashier counter, reading a cheap porn mag and holding a huge plastic jug of soda in his hand. A small wire fan was blowing directly on his neck; it was the only relief he had against the baking weather outside.  
The only other person inside the store was a man drooling in front of the open cooler door of the cold beer section. Middle-aged and balding, he wore a dirty and piss-stained t-shirt. If he was anything like the rest of the population in Sandy Shores, he was either a tweeker, a criminal, or both. Either way, he’ll probably mind his own, or be too strung out to even notice I was even there.

A bee-lined directly to the counter and pressed my small pistol up against the cashier sipping from his jug. His attention quickly turned when he noticed what was going on. Deep, dark eyes shot wide open when the steel barrel of my gun angled toward his brow.

“You know the routine. Empty the drawer into the bag. Don’t forget the cash under the drawer.”

I slugged my duffle bag open over the counter, still pointing the gun at the confused cashier as he begged.

“Please, don’t. I have a family. I have kids.”

“Then don’t die over a few bucks.”

Stay cool. Stay calm. Only a few more minutes of this and I can hit the road. Maybe I’ll make enough off this score to afford a hotel for a night or two and a couple of meals. Camping under the stars is nice in the movies, but it sure as fuck gets old after a while.

Singles of cash flopped into the bag. The cashier did as he was told. I’m sure it wasn’t his first time being held at gunpoint.

All of a sudden I heard a hawking yell,

“Fucking finally! Someone is actually tearing this place up!”

_What?_

I craned my neck around, still focusing my gun towards the cashier. The tweaker I saw standing across the store was now breathing down my neck. He turned out to be much bigger than I had previously observed, and he definitely noticed that I was smaller than him.

“C’mon, let’s see what your next move is gonna be. Are you gonna shoot him, or just run with the cash?”

“Please don’t shoot me!”

“Shut the fuck up! Both of you!” I harped, trying to regain control of the situation.

This asshole was really fucking this up. I should be burning my tires against the road by now, but this unexpected dickhead was holding up my progress.

“Hurry the fuck up!” I screamed again at the cashier, gun shaking in my hand.

“Ohhh-hoo, getting nervous now aren’t we? Do you think he called for police yet? Y’know there’s a security button under the counter? They could be on their way now.” The man was teasing me. From what I could tell, he’s probably a seasoned thief as well.

“Stay out of this. This isn’t your place.” I nagged back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. This is Sandy Shores. I own this place.” he whispered, getting too close.

Annoyed and tired, “I said STAY OUT!”

I spun on the heel of my boot and faced the man harassing me. In the same motion I waved the gun away from the shaking cashier and blew it towards the man. My visor got in the way of my viewpoint, making me guess at my target. His arm flew around and knocked the back of my right shoulder with his elbow, causing me to loose my aim as I took the shot. The gun recoiled and snapped back in my hand.

A small spout of dust and light popped from the florescent light above, then that section of the room immediately dimmed. I missed.

_Oh shit._

Well aware that I just tried to shoot him at point-blank range, the man quickly became overwhelmed in rage. Pupils dilated and a sadistic growl roared from his throat. Before I could move, his hand clinched for the collar of my leather jacket, pulling me forward. My next move was something that my older sister taught me when I was young: _If someone tries to hurt you, kick them in the balls._

My knee reared up towards my chest, and thrusted into his core. My heel stomped directly onto his junk, and in less than a second he was kneeled over on the floor below me.

I spinned back around to face the cashier, frozen from the encounter he just observed. When I noticed the empty drawer, I quickly zipped up the bag and sprang out the door, leaving the shaking cashier standing.

I leaped back onto my bike and threw the engine back to life. I threw dust as I spun out of the parking lot and back onto the long, dusty road. That took way longer than it should have, and may have left me more at risk. But at least I was able to leave relatively clean with some cash. I was out.

The station was fading away in the distance behind me. Just as my heart rate began to calm back down, I heard a loud rumbling from behind me. I turned my head around to see the same red Bodhi from the parking lot. That torturous man was roaring from behind the steering wheel.

_Shit, I’m fucked._

I cranked my wrist forward and felt the engine speed up beneath me. Surely I’ll be able to loose him off road and disappear into the desert. When I saw a clearing in bush and rock, I turned my handlebars right and crossed the open dirt surface of the desert. My hands started to vibrate under the harsh terrain, but this was my only choice if I were to lose this maniac. Small dunes caused my bike to bounce under me. The roaring from the Bodhi and its driver began to quiet behind me as I gained distance.

_I think I lost em. Thank fucking God._

My bike left a trail of smoke and dust as a traversed across the dunes, and for a second, I was alone again with my score. Free to disappear again.

As I was mounting over a taller dune of sand, that fucking Bodhi flew over the peak and was charging right in front of me. I had no time to react, jerking my handlebars hard left to steer from being ran over and crushed. I didn’t have time to avoid the pile of boulders scattered in my path. My front tire bounced and swerved sideways, causing the back tire to lift and throw me over my handlebars. I landed head-first on the compacted sand and rolled down the hill, my arms and legs tossing dust from side to side.

My head was still knocking against my helmet when my body finally stopped rolling in the ground. The sand clouded my visor, but I was able to make out that the Bodhi was stopped at the base of the dune.

_This is it. I’m going to die here and be eaten by the desert._

Two heavy boots stomped the ground beside the Bodhi and began walking my way. A sudden pain shot up from my thigh and through my entire body. I was unable to move. My pistol had be flung out of reach from my belt when I wrecked. I looked over to see the front tire of my bike completely bent inward. I had no getaway now. As I was assessing my situation, my impending doom, I remembered the pocket knife I had stored in the side of my boot. The man was now standing over me, eclipsing the sun’s harsh light with his massive body. I grabbed for the knife and sprang the blade open, swinging at him from my grounded position.

His muddy boot lifted from the dirt and kicked me directly at my helmet, knocking me back flat on the ground, cracking the vizier of my helm.

_This is it._

His heavy knees dropped on either side of me, straddling my body. “You reeeeeeally made a mistake today, didn’t you?” Before I could answer, his scarred fist hammered down on my helmet, shattering my vizor onto my face. My eyes sealed shut to protect my sight from the bright sun and shards of plastic splintering my face. I tensed my body in preparation for the next blow, knowing that I was going to be beaten to death by bare hands.

However, the next hit never came. In anticipation, I opened my eyes to see the shocked look on the man hovering above me.

“You’re….. You’re a girl?”

I laid their confused, “What?”

“Shit, you really are a woman.”

His clenched fist loosened and grabbed at my helmet, pulling it over my head. The shattered plastic scraped against my face as he violently ripped the helmet off me, causing me to bleed several red lines across my face and neck.

“You’re a little roughed up, but you ain’t bad looking neither.”

_Shit, he knows now. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna get raped and killed out here. I’m gonna be eaten by the desert._

The taste of iron blood was building in my mouth from the crash. As I was hearing the hulking man’s reaction to me, my only idea was to spit blood onto his face, hoping it would disgust him away from me, getting me a chance for some sort of escape.  
The blood splattered against his furrowed brow. A smooth and intense growl murmured from his throat as his tongue slipped out to lick my blood that landed around his mouth. I was shocked disgusted at his reaction.

“This kitten has claws.” he growled.

Immediately, I remembered the knife gripped in my hand. With all the force I could manage at my position, I slammed the blade into his lower hip, causing him to roar in pain. He quickly changed his attention to my knife, pulling it out of himself and tossing it aside. That same hand then clinched my wrist and twisted it, pulling me upwards and onto my knees. The pain in my leg bursted and I screamed for him to stop.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I yelled.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he called back.

Confused, I asked the only thing I could think of.

“Who are you? Just let me go.”

“Name’s Trevor, and by the way your leg looks, it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere… on your own.”

Reminded by the state of my leg, I looked down to see a bloody stain in my jeans, just above my knee. As I landed on the pool of rocks and earth, my leg must have landed on a sharp root or stone, tearing me open. I growled in pain and wrapped my hands around the cut, hoping the pressure will slow the blood loss.

“I’d say you have only a few hours until you empty out, darlin’.”

“Why are you still here?”

“You’re asking that to your savior? Doesn’t sound very fucking grateful.”

“My…. my savior? You caused this! You!”

“I might have, but I’m also going to save you. Take you away from here.”

“Fuck you” I gripped. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

“No, no, no, no. You got it all wrong. I’m your friend, and friends help friends right? I’ll help you clean up, get your feet back on the ground, and you’ll help me by making me lots and lots of money.”

Confused and scrambling for ideas of what the fuck this Trevor was talking about, I yelled back, “I’m not going to be a whore for you. I’d rather you leave me to die here in this desert. Fuck you!”

“Noooo, you still don’t get it. You’re like the close female friend I’ve always wanted. You’re like the…. eager soldierette I’ve always needed! You’re done pedaling highway gas stations for scraps of cash.”

He slowly started to stand up, grunting at the small wound I had made in his hip. I guess my pocket knife wasn’t as deadly as I thought. My apparent new friend stood over me again, reaching his bloody and scarred hand down to me.

“Now c’mon.” Trevor said, “If that fat, depressed pig Michael can adopt a student, then so can I! I can tell you have a spark in you that beyond this shithole. You have just the right amount of hate and stubbornness to become a professional, like me! And I'm gonna teach you how.”

_Who the fuck is Michael?_

Questioning his motives, I stated, “I’m not interested in running around with some meth head, only to be left dead on the side of the road.”  
He snorted, turning on his heel limping back towards his Bodhi. A small line of blood was running down from the cut I had made on his side and staining his dusty jeans.

“Fine then, you can just be left for dead here in the desert. Let the birds peck at your body.”

_I’m gonna be eaten by the desert._

“Wait!” I hollered. “How much money are we talking?”

“HA! Just as I thought. Money’s an addiction you know. This place is full of addictions.” His hands motioned to the surrounding desert of Sandy Shores.

“You got me all wrong, asshole. I just need enough to be able to keep running.”

A grin crossed over Trevor’s face, “that why I knew you'd be perfect. I could tell from the moment I saw you without that helmet. We're going to make great friends, you and I.”

_Perfect? For what?_

He turned around from his truck and limped back over towards me, leaned over, and wrapped his forearms under my legs and behind my shoulders.

“Wait… Don’t fucking touch---” Before I could finish, he lifted me up in one fluid motion. It was if his stab wound wasn’t even there. The pain in my leg eased as he gently placed me in the passenger seat of his Bodhi. He returned for my bike to load it in the back of his truck; the weight of it didn’t seem to phase him at all as he grunted and lifted it into place.

“My bag, it has the money in it.” I begged.

He snorted at my answer and turned his head to look me over, finally noticing my figure. “Darlin, what I’m about to show you will make you forget all about that bag.”


	2. Vows Over Needles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Trevor finally begin to connect after their initial encounter. However, Sam begins having flashbacks into her tragic past.

 

“Well, now that you’ve saddled up with me, I might as well know what to call you.” Trevor hawked over the screaming radio.  

 

“Uh, yeah, of course.  I’m Samantha Scott, but just call me Sam.  I’d rather that.” I stated, matter-of-factly.

 

“Nah,” he called back, “I like Scott better.   _ Scotty,  _ actually.  That’ll be my little pet name for you.”

He reached his hand out for a shake.  Slightly annoyed at his new nickname for me, I reached back and held his calloused hand.  He waved it once, and held it for a few second too long before I pulled away.  My eyes shifted over to him studying the road in front of him.  I tried to figure out what exactly his intentions were. 

 

The wind was whipping through my hair, creating even more knots and caused a wavy and tangled mess.  Channel X was thrashing over the radio, causing me to flashback to when I was first introduced to The Weirdos.  Ten years ago, my life was chaotic, dangerous, and poetic.  However, days of reckless fun were now far behind. 

 

_ The car you drive is painted red and grey _

_ But if you ask me to get in _

_ Well I'll just run away _

_ We was good friends for a long, long time _

_ But baby you got hungry for a life of crime _

 

As a teenager, cruel and wild, I was only concerned with getting my next fix and throwing back at any authority willing to take a stance in front of me; whether that be the crooked cops, “dead-hearted” adults that paid too much attention, or my piece-of-shit brother-in-law.  All wanting to push me into the constraints of an “upstanding individual,” but I was more willing to push back.  I later learned that their protectiveness wasn’t for my well-being, but only to keep me around, to use me.  I wasn’t going to be used.  I’m not going to be used now.  

 

_ But baby you got hungry for a life of crime _

_ Get the message now? _

 

“What line of work are you in? I mean, what will we be doing, exactly?” I asked once the music settled down and the radio DJ came on to spew some outdated punk ideologies.  

 

“Speed and guns, darlin.  Across the whole tri-county area.  The only business goes through the Trevor Philips Industries.”

 

“Speed, huh? Y’know you could probably make a lot more cash off of throwing coke down in Los Santos, right?”

 

“Baby,” he replied, “You gotta do what you’re passionate about, what you love!”

 

“Ah, a real self-made man.  I’m sure you’re proud of yourself.  Most dealers are, climbing up the ladder and into the pit.”    
  


“You sure do got an opinion on ya, don’t ya.”

 

“Hmph,” I snorted, “Nah, I’m just talking from experience.” 

  
I looked down to see my stick-and-poke across my knuckles.  _ BORN 2 RUN  _ across eight fingers.  An old song turned into a stupid tattoo.  I can still feel my sister poking the inked needle into my hands in our blue tiled bathroom.  I was 13 years old at the time. Sitting on the edge of dirty tub, this was our way of making promises to each other.  To never be owned, to never succumb.  The pricks from the sewing needle didn’t hurt, rather it was a tender reassurance.  It was security.  

 

As I slowly typed the same letters into my sister’s hands, I had no idea that I was providing a taste, or a craving, for what will ultimately destroy her.  We made a vow to each other by sticking each other with a needle, and she ended up leaving me over a needle.  

 

I still can’t help but to blame myself.  

 

“I’m not going to find you dead on the bath rug tomorrow, am I?  I mean, gone off your own supply?”

 

“Shit, you kidding? I’m in the best shape of my life, you understand? Keeps me focused.  Keeps me going.” 

 

_ Well if he does kill over, I guess I’ll be free. _

 

I had almost forgotten the ache in my leg once we pulled up to his lot in Sandy Shores.  His trailer didn’t stand out much from the surrounding area: dusty, tired, and littered with trash and waste.  Sandy Shores must have once been a sprawling vacation destination at one point, then destroyed in the wake of drug abuse and excess.  Now only the rats feeding on the scrapes of the wasteland survive there.  Trevor must be the Rat King. 

 

The red Bodhi I had spent my entire morning running away from now chauffeured me into the driveway of my new temporary home.  Halting on the brakes and cutting Channel X to silence, he announced, “We’re here. In this part of town you’ll be safe from the authorities, so don’t worry about that cashier causing you any trouble.”

 

_ I wasn’t.  In fact, I had almost forgotten about that.  _

 

I just simply stared at him, eyes narrowed, trying to gauge if his statement was reassuring or a warning. 

 

“ _ Away from any authorities.” _

He crossed the front of the Bodhi, kicking a beer can that laid in his path, and started to open the passenger door beside me.  

 

“I really don’t need any he-” a jolt of pain sprang up through my leg and into my core, leaving me motionless. 

 

“Now, now.  Don’t be a feisty little turd the whole time.  Just relax a sec.” 

 

Before I could finish, he had already lifted me in his arms and was climbing the stairs to the trailer with me, limp and helpless like a child.  I felt vulnerable yet secure in his heavy arms.  I hadn’t felt this feeling in a while, in almost 10 years.  

 

Arms preoccupied carrying my limp body, Trevor kicked the unlocked door to swing open into his trailer.  It was a real shit hole; beer cans, pizza boxes, and cigarettes butts littered every inch of the small home.  However, I couldn’t judge much.  I had definitely stayed in worse conditions overnight: sleeping on the floor public bathrooms, under bridges of highway passes, or in the backseat of some toker’s car after threatening them that I’d kill him if he touched me.  I wonder if I’d have to threaten Trevor, maybe I already should have by now. 

 

Trevor slowly eased me onto the couch and guided me to sit upwards.  I adjusted myself to be able to relax my leg along the stained cushions.  He marched into the adjacent kitchen and quickly returned with a dusty first aid kit, a knife, and a half full bottle of whiskey.  He slung the bottle into my lap and said, “Start now so that you can be nice and numb for the next part.”  He placed the knife over the waistband of my jeans and started to drag it downwards.  I began to rustle beneath him.

 

“I swear on your whore mother, if you hurt me, I’ll cut your----”   
  


“FIRST OFF, my mother  _ is  _ a whore, but that’s none of your God damn business to judge.  SECOND, it’s gonna  _ hurt  _ regardless.  And I may be a lot of fucking things, but I ain’t no rapist.  So give me some fucking credit for my deeds, or I’ll turn you out to the coyotes and rednecks and have you fend for yourself, still bleedin’. Now,  _ drink up.” _

 

I was put into my place.  He wasn’t lying, he was an addict, drug lord, maniac, violent criminal, but so far he hadn’t proven to be of any danger to me.  If he were to kill or rape me, he would have done it by now in the desert, and left me for dead.  

 

_ Maybe I could ease up a little.   _

 

I knocked the bottle back and took a huge gulp of the thick liquid.  The first taste shot through me, hurting almost as much as my leg beneath me.  However, the taste quickly subsided with the second dose.  My head starting to fade by the drink’s effects.  

 

By now Trevor had guided the knife down the pant seam of my injured leg, stopping just above my ankle.  He grabbed at either side of the denim and tore it open to expose my leg, caked in blood and dirt.  I flinched at the sight of my thigh below me, fully observing the severity of my injury.  

 

Trevor grabbed the bottle from me, took a huge gulp for himself, and wetted some goze with the whiskey and ran the fabric up and down my upper thigh.  The alcohol stung a sharp pain through my leg, but quickly settled as soon as it appeared.  For someone who caused me so much Hell earlier, he was gentle as he nursed my leg.  Taking his time, he slowly massaged the flesh and muscle with the whiskey soaked rag.  My pants were completely off at this point, leaving me exposed in my black panties.  I clinched my jaw and shut my eyes at the thought of being this vulnerable.  However, Trevor was making an effort, as best he could, to keep his distance.  Maybe my threat  _ did  _ have some impact after all.  I  _ did _ notice his hungry eyes searching over me, observing my frame that laid helpless beneath him.  Perhaps he took longer than he needed to clean my skin, taking every opportunity to gently caress my hip and thigh.  As he cleaned the caked blood away, my sun kissed tan began to show through.

 

He reached for the first aid kit.  It looked as if it hadn’t been opened in years. 

 

“Alright, now here’s the hard part.  You can hold my hand if it hurts  _ too much.”  _ An evil grin crept across his face, sharp brown eyes winked into mine.   

 

My pale blue eyes glared back at him, attempting to assert any sort of dominance I could, 

“I’ll be fine.  So you can package up that charm now and fuck off.”

 

He huffed back, slightly disappointed, “Alright then, darling.  You’re on your own.”

 

He tied the needle and sharply inserted it along the top of my gash.  I gritted my teeth and moaned in pain, trying my best to conceal my anguish.  My hips squirmed, trying to reposition themselves in response to the pain.  These movements caught Trevor’s attention, and his eyes shifted from my leg to my waist, observing again.  

 

His attention snapped back, and continued to sew my leg shut. I tossed back the remaining whiskey in my hand.  Once I finished the bottle, I threw it aside on the floor and reached for Trevor’s other hand resting on my thigh.  His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but he continued his work.  As I squeezed his hand in pain, I noticed him gulp nervously.  He shifted his stance beside me, rocking his hips from side to side in order to conceal his very obvious hard on through his jeans.  

 

I silently rolled my eyes behind my eyelids.

 

_ I’ll give him the benefit.  I mean, after all….. _

 

Trying to divert his attention, his eyes jolted to the scattered tattoos up my arms.  

 

He softly coughed and stuttered, “S-so, what are your tattoos? What a-are they meant for?”

 

I peered down at my arms, remembering the weight they held, “Ah, they’re mostly long, sad stories.  My sister did most of the stick-and-pokes, except this one.  I did this one myself.” I lifted my to show off the poorly drawn mermaid just above my elbow.  “Her eye is crooked as fuck, but I was a little drunk when I did it.” 

 

“Trust me, I know a lot about drunken tattoos.” 

 

My eyes shifted over the letters  _ FUCK YOU  _ across Trevor’s knuckles as he made his final stitches.  “I can see that.  Actually, the only ‘professional’ tattoo I have is a skull on my shoulder that says  _ Punk For Survival.   _ My old friend did during their apprenticeship _.  _ They eventually quit to disappearred somewhere.  Man, I thought I was such a hard ass when I got it.  Like, I was gonna scare away anyone who tried to fuck around with me.  I was such an idiot, now that thing plagues me.”  

 

“Well it’s better than getting a tattoo for some dead asshole.” He motioned to the huge cross and banner across his arm.  

 

_ ‘RIP MICHAEL’  Him again... _

 

“What, did you end up finding out he was fucking your wife before he died or something?” I scoffed.  

 

“Pssft, that asshole was never  _ dead.”  _ he spat.  “You’ll meet him later after a few days once you’re all healed up.  He’s apart of our team.” 

 

“Sounds reliable.” I stated sarcastically.  

 

“Ehh, he has his moments at times.”

 

Trevor reached down to the kit to pull out a roll of white cotton and began wrapping it around my new stitch.  His face fell silent as he peered down on my thigh, finishing his work.  I could tell he was thinking. 

 

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he bursted out, “I m-mean, you don’t have to be scarred or anything.  I ain’t no fucking Prince Charmin’, but I’m not gonna skin ya… unless you give me reason to.”   
  
“I’m not afraid of you, Trevor.” I scowled into him, trying to make myself believable.  I was afraid, in fact, but I couldn’t let him know that.  I still had to keep my guard up.  I’ve learned that I can’t be hurt if I don’t let people in. 

 

“Hmph,” he purred, “I don’t hear that much, to be honest, but I you’re tellin’ the truth.  I don’t plan on being strangled in my sleep after I just patched you up.”

 

I hummed through my mouth, “I promise, for whatever that means to you.”

 

_ Another promise over a needle.  Will this end the same? _

 

Trevor was silent when he threw the remanding supplies in the kit then immediately headed to the kitchen for a beer. 

“Now go get cleaned up.  There’s a shower.  It’s filthy and the water pressure sucks, so sorry if it doesn’t live up to your standards, princess.” Trevor smirked over my leg, proud of his work. 

 

“Ha, can’t you tell I don’t have very high standards?” I retorted. 

 

He gave a small huff in laughter, raising from his place on the side of the couch. 

 

I realized that I had never let go of his hand when he started to lift me again from the couch.  His arms guided and supported my shoulders as I regained my balance to stand.  He guided me over to the small bathroom, it wasn’t much, and he wasn’t lying when he said it was filthy.  But it’ll do.  

 

There was no door to the bathroom, forcing me to strip openly while Trevor retreated to his own bedroom.  I flung my leather jacket to the hallway, and began to peel my old, ripped baseball t-shirt from my tired body.  My pants were in shreds in the living room, leaving me reduced to gently pull my panties downwards over my newly bandaged wound.  As I turned on the shower and waited for the hot water to set in, I observed myself in the broken mirror over the sink.  My light brown and blonde hair had became dusty and tangled from the day’s trip through The Grand Senora.  Natural waves fell over my face as my fingers tried to brush through the mess.  My blue eyes stared back at me, reminding me of my late sister.  

 

_ “You got pretty eyes, just like hers. I could mistake you for…” _

 

I snapped back from old memories, rejoining with the present.  I stepped into the steaming shower, instantly feeling relief as old dirt and grunge washed away from my body.  My leg still stung, but the I was able to still stand after all.  As I bathed, I took my time to observe myself.  Years of fighting and running had kept me fit, leaving toned muscles under tanned and freckled skin.  However, after living on the road and scrounging for money, I had missed a couple of meals.  My hip and collar bones stuck out and pushed against my skin.  

As the dried blood spun around the drain, all that was left underneath was the several tattoos that were scattered over my body; random and sporadic, they were memories of where I came, footnotes of my earlier years in the streets.

 

I stepped out of the shower, hair dripping down my shoulders.  I peered through dark blonde locks to see blue eyes and soft freckles staring back at me.  

 

_ I’m still here.  I’m alive.  I can keep going. _

 

In the reflection of the mirror, I could see Trevor shifting through his busted closet to find spare clothes.  His jeans were tossed over the TV, leaving him in his dirty shirt and baggy underwear.  I could see new bandage wrappers littering his room. He must have patched his own stab wound.

 

_ I guess I could have returned the favor, but he seems fine now.  _

 

Once he noticed that the shower had stopped, he turned around.  I was completely exposed, standing openly in the bathroom.  I crossed my arms in hopes to conceal myself, but Trevor quickly turned his head in respect.  

 

_ Surprising.  Usually people would jump at the opportunity to gawk.   _

 

Head still facing the other direction, he reached out an old, yet clean white t-shirt. “It’s my size, so it should cover you up pretty well.  You can take the bed, and I’ll stay on the couch. O-or the other way around. It ain’t comfortable, but from the amount of whiskey you just tossed back, I’m sure you’ll be able to fall sleep anywhere.” 

 

“You take me for a light-weight, Trevor.” I unveiled my breasts to reach for the shirt he was offering me, exposing myself for an instance. Trevor’s eyes shot at me, fully taking in what was in front of him, and then quickly looking away.  I, myself, tried not to notice the obvious growing erection pressing against his white briefs.  Both my our faces turned red in embarrassment.  

 

_ Idiot, but at least he didn’t try anything.  Better than the other men I’ve encountered before.  _

 

I pulled the shirt over my head, leaving it the drape past my hips, stopping just above my bandaged thigh.  I was tall for the average girl, but Trevor still had a whole foot above me.  His frame was massive and intimidating, and also scattered with tattoos, similar to me.  His black hair was thinning and years of drug use and violence had left his skin calloused and rough.  However, for a middle-aged man, he was in peak physical shape.  Fueled by speed and aggression, it wasn’t hard to believe that he ran the drug cartel in Sandy Shores.  And yet, he just offered his home to me as if I was an old friend.  

 

“The couch is more than enough.  Though I could be rested up in a hotel room by myself if I didn’t run into you.” I snorted with a grin on. 

 

“Well aren’t ya got caught up with me, then,  _ Scotty _ ?” He scoffed back, “Now you got yourself a solid friend here in beautiful Sandy Shores.”  I couldn’t tell if his description of ‘beautiful’ was sarcastic or not.  I guess it did have it’s own charm to it - the people at least.  

His laughter quickly shifted as he stared straight into my eyes, “Just don’t fuck with me or betray me, or there’ll be nothing left of you.”  I stood motionless for a second, trying to come up with a response, “Sure, but how can I trust that  _ you _ just won’t waste me regardless?” 

 

Surprised at my straight-forward response, his eyes calmed and softened, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to hope and trust that we won’t murder each other.  I left some blankets on the couch.  Go ahead and take up space.”

 

Trevor retreated to his bedroom and flopped onto his mattress. The springs underneath squeaking as they adjusted to his weight.  I limped into the living room and unfolded the dirty quilt Trevor had left for me.  As I was making myself a bed, I heard a loud revving motorcycle engine from outside.  

 

_ Is someone fucking with my bike? _

 

I crossed the living room to look out the cracked window pane to see a single biker standing from across the street.  The night was dark, but I could make out the rider wearing a black leather jacket with some kind of rocker panels on the back. Once the biker noticed me staring out at him, he picked up his phone and immediately drove off into the night.  Although I was in the company of the apparent King of Sandy Shores, a chill ran over me.  I suddenly felt unsafe sleeping alone, like a child scared of what may be under their bed.  I took the quilt and draped it around my shoulders and crept towards Trevor’s room.  As I peaked through the doorway, I had noticed that Trevor was already passed out on his bed.  

 

_ He probably wouldn’t even notice.  I’ll get up and move to the couch in the morning before he wakes up, too.  If he asks, I’ll just say that I got…. cold. _

 

I slowly crawled into bed with him, still keeping a distance in order to not wake him.  I moved slowly and pressed my back against his.  His body jerked at my touch, but quickly settled back down.  Soon after, I felt safe enough to drift into my own sleep.  

  
  



	3. The Hanger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor expects Scott to prove herself on the firing range. In any other circumstances, she'd be calm and relaxed around her teammates. However, something about Trevor has gotten her nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, some actual smut. Enjoy!

The first morning I found myself in an empty bed, realizing that he must’ve gotten up before me.  I was embarrassed to learn that he knew that I had crawled into bed with him.  However, he never mentioned it.  Stilling wearing the same t-shirt he’d given me on the first night we spent together, I would continue to crawl into his bed to sleep late at night once he’d pass out after returning home. 

 

A few days had gone by, and I began to feel more comfortable in my new home in Sandy Shores.  The sharp pain in my leg had been reduced to a dull ache.  Trevor would volunteer himself everyday to change the bandages.  Maybe it was just an excuse to gawk at me.  Maybe he really was concerned.  Regardless, he’d make sure to take the time for me.  I can’t say that I’ve had that type of attention in quite some time.  Whatever his reasons, I actually enjoyed his care.  

 

During the day, Trevor would often disappear and not return until late that evening.  He’d usually come storming in stinking of gasoline, splattered in blood, and raging over his phone.  I usually stayed out of his way, retreating into the bedroom, feeling sorry for the poor asshole on the other end of the phone.  I knew his line of work, and from my years growing up, I learned not to stick my head where it didn’t belong.  I never questioned what he did or who he was arguing with.   Until he asked, I’d keep my interests to myself.  Besides, I knew his intended purpose for me was coming soon after I was healed.  

 

During the daytime he’d leave me alone in the trailer.  He was kind enough to leave some cash on the kitchen counter to buy food, spare clothes, whatever I needed. He even left some weed to help me pass the long hours.  Trevor fiercely warned me about the surrounding inhabitants.  Although I felt that I could handle myself, Trevor felt protective and concerned when he was away on business.  I was given strict instructions to stay within the neighborhood, not like I could get far with the shape of my bike anyway.  He told me to call upon his neighbor Ron if I needed any help.   I never did.  Ron was a nervous creep that would only appear on his front porch of his trailer, only to quickly retreat back inside.  The only communication we shared was the occasional head nod I’d give him when I went outside to smoke or to take a walk around.  

 

After the fifth day, I woke up in an empty bed again.  Trevor had left me behind in the trailer and I laid in bed to wonder when I’d see him again.  I sat there for over an hour alone, deciding what to do with my day when Trevor bursted in with a suitcase and flung it on the bed beside me.  In it was some spare clothes that Trevor had sent Ron to find.

 

“I didn’t know your size, so if it’s tight then…. Fucking deal with it, I guess.” He spoke as he laid out a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top.  They definitely did fit tight, but they did well enough for now.  Besides, he had done me a favor for providing me some clothes so I couldn’t complain. The clothes definitely did show off my figure, though.  I couldn’t help but to wonder if that was pre-planned.  

 

Along with the clothes was a rifle and a pistol with plenty of ammo. 

 

“You didn’t prove much with your shooting skills.  If you’re going to do us any good, I gotta make sure that you can hit a target.” Trevor stated, basking in my new outfit.  He took a long pause to look me over before speaking again. 

 

“We’re gonna go to my hanger to shoot at some targets.  Hopefully you can show me that you’re not completely useless.”

 

“Hmph,” I scoffed, “I think I might actually surprise you.”

 

“For your sake, darlin’, I hope you do.  The people we’re going up against ain’t gonna go easy on you like I did.  You’d be dead if you fuck up like you did the other day.”

 

“Easy on me?” I retorted, “You beat me while I was bleeding in the dirt.”

 

“That was before I knew you were a chick.  I don’t hit women, y’know…. The way you were dressed… Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know?!” He started to get riled up, veins beginning to appear in his neck before he settled back down. “But… but now I can tell, you’re a full blown woman” he began to growl, eyes rolling over my figure.

 

His eyes were still burning into me as he swing open the front door of his trailer, motioning for me to retrieve the guns he’d laid out for me.  I chased after him to load up in his Bodhi, still limping from the cut in my leg.  

 

“These assholes don’t care if you’re a man or a woman, they’ll sink you with bullets either way.  You gotta learn to protect yourself.”

 

Annoyed I quickly responded, “I know how to protect myself.  I’ve been doing it all my life.” 

 

“Yeah, well practicing won’t hurt ya. Will it, princess?  I wanna know if I can trust you to protect  _ me  _ during the heat.  Understand?” His eyes shot over at me, waiting for an answer.  

 

“Yeah, sure.  I’ll show ya what I can do.” I replied, trying to avoid his gaze.  

 

The engine spurted up and rolled out of the lot, trailing dust behind us as we sailed towards his hanger. 

 

“I can’t believe you actually have a hanger.  Do you actually own it, or did you kill someone and adopt it for yourself?  I know you’re some big-time deal-...”

 

“I earned it.  You earn everything out here.  So shut the fuck up and pay attention from here on.” Trevor spat, frustrated. 

 

It didn’t take long to pull up to the hanger.  For Sandy Shores, it was impressive.  Most drug lords only boast about their operation behind the curtains, but Trevor seemed to be the real deal.  Seeing this only reconfirmed that he could actually be trustworthy, keeping his word with his business… and his relationships.  Maybe I could actually be safe with him.  

 

Nearby Trevor set up some targets of cans and wooden crates, marking bullseyes with paint.  He then took me by the shoulder and walked me to the distance he wanted me to shoot from.  

 

I had to admit, I wasn’t any expert with a gun, but I knew enough to protect myself.  I wasn’t worried as much about missing the target as I was at disappointing him.  

 

_ Why am I so concerned with impressing him.   _

 

Once I had proven that I could properly load the magazine, he silently nodded his head and took a step back, crossing his arms across his chest.  Not saying a thing, only watching and observing me with striking eyes.  

 

I took a moment to try to settle my nerves, without success however.  The gun was shaking in my hands, and I tried to focus my vision on the center of the target.  I squeezed the trigger and the gun knocked back into my wrists. 

 

_ Fuck! _

 

I kept silent, trying not to reveal my frustration.  I shifted my weight and lifted the gun to aim again.  Before I took the second shot, I felt hands wrap around my shoulders and waist.  I could feel his breath blow across my ear as he spoke, “Center your weight.  Don’t look at the gun, look at what’s in front.”  I never heard Trevor whisper like this, and his closeness caused chills to creep up my spine and through my neck.  I pulled again.  

 

“FUCKING BULLSEYE!” He shouted, causing me to jump at the sudden volume in my ear.  I turned my head with a grin.  Trevor’s hand ripped from my waist and circled back to land a hard slap on my ass, causing me to jump.  I decided that this would be my opportunity to  _ really  _ prove myself.  

 

I spun on my heel, using the momentum to guide my fist.  With all my strength, I punched him directly in his mouth.  

 

“Touch me again, fucker!” I spat.  

 

Trevor stepped back in shock, reaching for his mouth and drawing it back to find blood on his fingertips.  He looked back at me in a hellish stare, as if he was going to rip me in half.  It was the same look he had given me in the gas station when I first tried to attack him.  I instantly realized my mistake and stepped back in fear.  

 

A wide smile sprung onto Trevor’s face and he dropped to his knees in front of me, “Hoo-ohh, I love you! Marry me! Hit me again! Hit me and marry me!”  He spread his arms wide in front of me, begging me for an answer.  I couldn’t help but to snorted out of my nose in laughter.  Once he saw that I was playing along with him, he jumped at the opportunity.  He scooped me up in his big arms and spun me in the air.  I was nothing to his strength. His palm sat at the bottom of my ass as he lifted me over and across his shoulders.  His forearms fell across the back of my knees and my head swung helplessly against his back.  My bad thigh began to ache again from being thrown around, but I couldn’t complain due to my unstoppable laughter.  

 

I was flattered and surprised.  I’ve never met someone as unpredictable and genuine at the same time.  No bullshit, no excuses, no frills.  Everything I would expect from Trevor, he’d do the exact opposite.  I never knew how he would react to anything.  It was unsettling and reassuring at the same time. I was actually beginning to trust this lunatic.  

 

“Wha-wait! Do you want me to practice more? Wha-....” I stammered, still being carried over Trevor’s shoulder.

 

“Ah, just do exactly what you did just now.  You’ll be fine… We’ll be fine.” He motioned back.  

 

He carried me back to the side of his Bodhi and slowly flipped me back over his shoulder to sit in the passenger seat.  As he dropped me down into the leather seat, my thighs naturally opened to his body, allowing him room to move closer to me.  He ran his heavy hands from my shoulders, slowing dragging them from my waist and resting on the tops of my thigh.  Intimidating, he stood in front of me; his eyes burned into my form that was now shining of sweat from the desert sun.  His hands softly squeezed at my thighs, still cautioning around my bandage.  A slow and warm growl vibrated from his chest and into this throat.  

 

I found myself sucking on my lip as I looked up to him.  Without realizing what I was doing, my hands brushed over his wrists and guided them back to my waist, motioning him to pull me closer to him as I was still seated in his Bodhi.  Again, I was helpless in his arms.  His eyes scanned over my lips and he proceeded to bob his head down and towards mine.  

 

_ Wait _

 

I snapped back and realized what I was doing, what I was giving up in temptation.  

 

_ “Don’t fall in.  Remember to stand your ground.”   _

 

Old words from a familiar voice rolled over me, and I remembered my responsibilities to myself. 

 

“I-I can’t.” I stammered.  Trevor’s face immediately sank and he released me from his grip.  I turned my head to keep from facing him, putting up an invisible wall.  I tried to find my words, “I-I don’t get caught up with partners. It causes too much confusion.  Too messy.  It’s against my- my responsibility to myself.”

 

He took a step back to give me some space.  His eyes that were once hard and terrifying were now softened and lazily gazed over me.  I could tell he was frustrated, but he immediately halted once I stopped him.  

 

“A thief’s code, huh? Ain’t that cute?” He began to cross the Bodhi.  Our outing seeming to be over.  

 

“Wait,” I interrupted, “Show me your hanger.  I wanna see your plane.  Can you really pilot?”

 

Trevor’s eyes quickly lined back up with mine, “Fuck, you kiddin? I was in the Canadian Air Force.  I served this country  _ and  _ my own.”

 

Trying to lighten the mood, I joked, “Canadian, huh? I knew there was something about your accent.  Is that why you shacked up here in the desert, to escape the snow?”

 

A grin creeped back over Trevor’s lip, “Hmph, like you, I got a lot of reasons why I’m here now.”  He offered a hand out to assist me back down from the truck. I followed him towards the opening of the hanger, taking my own opportunity to observe him.  He was dressed in the same dirty t-shirt that I had first found him in.  Years of sweat, dirt, and blood had created permanent designs in the fabric.  The same went for the jeans he was wearing.  Despite the years of filth on his clothing, it still couldn’t hide his body pressing against underneath.  His massive shoulders pushed out from his thick neck and stretched against the fabric.  He was sweating from the same heat I was enduring, causing the fabric to cling to his chest and shoulders.  Beads of sweat dripped from his brow and neck.  However, the heat didn’t seem to phase him.  Nothing seemed to phase him, really.  

 

The shade of the hanger instantly relieved me from the hot, dry sun above.  In the center of the hanger was a white and red biplane. 

 

“So I’m guessing you use this guy to make delivers, right?” I was trying to make small talk in hopes to distract the both of us from the tension between us.  However, I couldn’t help but feel propelled towards him.  He guided me towards the wing of the plane, explaining his time in the Air Force and his history in the cartel.  Honestly, I was too preoccupied with my own mixed feelings to be able to fully comprehend what he was saying.  Noticing my silence, Trevor turned to look at me, waiting for a response.  I stared blankly at him, then decided. 

 

“Fuck my code.” I spoke and forwarded towards him.  In the same motion, he stepped towards me and wrapped an arm around the back of my head, pulling me in.  His lips slammed hard against mine, heavy breathing emphasized by our closeness to each other.  His other hand slid down my spine and desperately grabbed at the bottom of my shorts, pulling my hips into his.  Trevor pulled me close to him, allowing me to feel the growing erection in his jeans.  

 

Nearby was a small work bench with various tools and drug paraphernalia across it.  Trevor pushed me backwards, causing me to take awkward steps until my ass was pressed against the edge of the bench.   His lips never left mine, roughly biting and sucking at mine.  He was so aggressive that I thought that he’d end up biting my tongue off.  His hand fell on either side of my hips and lifted them to sit on the bench, allowing himself to push through my thighs.  My arms guided upwards to wrap around his neck.  Trevor grunted, taking each of my wrists and slammed my arms back to sit either side of me.  His grip was tight and rough, inflicting dominance over me.  Again, I was helpless.  

 

Trevor’s teeth grated across my cheek and down my neck.  His jaw opened wide and clenched down on my neck, biting and sucking and pulling.  He was leaving marks and bruises all over my chest.  He breathed hard into my neck, then pulled back to cause his lips to snap against my skin.  I could feel the bruises forming already.  He stared harshly into my eyes, huffing harsh breaths through his nose and mouth.  Taking a wad of hair, he pulled my head back into his.  Gruffly whispering into my ear, “Yeah, fuck your code.”

 

Arms still held straight against my sides, he ripped from me again to take in the body in front of him.  He was completely possessed; I could see anger radiating from his eyes.  I was completely overwhelmed with fear and allurement.  Again, I had no way of predicting Trevor’s actions.  My hostility only drove me forward.  As Trevor was ravaging my neck, I couldn’t help the small, sporadic moans from escaping me.  

 

Trevor then reached up and grabbed at the middle of my tank top, forcing it upwards and over my head.  Instantly, Trevor’s eyes dilated again, taking in the view of my exposed torso.  He was completely uncontrolled and free to claim me.  The marks and bruises he left were only reassurance that I was now his to take.  Held tightly by his strong hands and assertion, all I could do was accept and enjoy his cruel actions. 

 

His hands pawed at my breasts, and then took them into his mouth and biting down hard.  His lips snapping again at my skin as he dotted his mouth across my chest.  His free hand pushed me backwards to lay across the bench under me, lifting my hips to meet his.  Trevor stayed standing up, and dragged his nails from my breasts down the the waistband of my shorts.  

 

“You want to act all tough and mean, but I’m going to put you in your place.  It’s time you coward down.  Be a good girl, for me?” Trevor growled through his teeth, crazed eyes still locked onto mine.  He reached up to grip his large hand around my neck, slightly squeezing it, furthering his strength over me.  His grip blocked my ability to speak, reducing me to only nod once.  

 

At the sight of my approval, Trevor exposed his teeth in a bazaar smile.  He then ripped at the hem of my shorts and violently drew the zipper downwards.  Both hands gripped tightly around the top of my shorts and underwear, jerking them over my knees.  Now I was completely nude underneath him, aroused and terrified, my chest rose and sank with eager breaths.  Indulging in the sight, Trevor’s upper row of teeth bit tightly into his lower lip as he dragged his palm upwards from my knees towards my upper thighs.  I closed my eyes in anticipation for what was to come while welcoming his greedy touch.  Forearms wrapping around my thighs, he jerked my whole body effortlessly so that my ass was now hanging off the edge of the table.  He sunk to his knees, his head now between my thighs.  He placed small bites up and down my inner and upper thighs. 

 

“Now don’t move.  You’re gonna want to wiggle and scream, but you’re gonna lay still and take it like a good girl, right?”  I had no choice but to nod again, now panting and whining.  “If you scream, I’ll have to fill your mouth.  And trust me, you’re gonna scream.”

 

His mouth opened wide and laid over my crotch, beginning to drink in all of me.  His tongue lapped viciously against my sex, causing me to cringe and tense up from his movements.  I instantly forgot his rules and let out a long and slow growl.  He responded with his own purr, muffled by skin and wetness.  Jolts of pain sprang through me as he occasionally raked his teeth over my more sensitive areas, punishing me and teasing me each time I whimpered another moan.  He slowly teased his fingers up and down my slit before cruelly sliding them deep into me, while keeping his mouth circulating above and around my glazing flesh. I cried out in lust, “T-Trev---” 

 

Before I could finish he sucked tightly onto my crit before rising to his feet again and slapping his free hand around my neck again.  His other still pumping on my crotch. 

 

“The fuck I say,  _ Scotty?  _ I told you to stay quiet.  Do you understand what that means?” His hand slowly gripped tighter around me, causing me to gasp for air.  The pain of his teasing made my body seep and drip with sweat and need.  Trevor, too, was dripping with salty sweat and pulled his shirt over his torso in hopes to get some relief from the burning sun outside the hanger.  

 

Next he took his belt into his hand and whipped it sideways, loosening his jeans and sliding them down along with his underwear.  His length, thick and heavy, sprung from the release.  He slid his hand out of me and pushed his slick fingers into my mouth and demanding, “Suck.” 

 

While his eyes focused into mine, I softly looked up into his and I did as I was told.  He gripped his girth and pointed it towards my core before slowly sliding into me.  I bit down on his fingers in response to the pleasure and pain.  I was no virgin, but after months of absence I wasn’t used to the sensation, especially at Trevor’s size.  

 

“Good, sweet thing,” Trevor pulled his fingers from my mouth, allowing me to breathe again, “Now I wanna hear you scream. I’m gonna make you cry while you cum.”

 

As he thrusted hard against me, Trevor reached for both of my wrists laying lazily beside me and pulled me up.  My arms wrapped tightly around his neck, my breasts now bouncing against his chest.  A hard hand slammed against my ass and clinched tightly to gain extra support under my weight.  I was light in his arms, his biceps contracting and relaxing with each thrust from his hips.  By now I was completely off the table and all of my weight rested in his strength.  I clasped my ankles tight around his hips and clawed at the back of his neck in pleasure.  Rough and breathless grunts emerged from both of us, however mine were more high-pitched than his.  He growled loudly into my ear, blowing long puffs of air through my hair.  

 

“I-I…. I’ve wanted you, as soon as I found you, ya know?  You’re mine now, you hear me? Y-you fucking hear me,  _ girl?”  _ he panted.  

 

“Shut up…” I huffed, “I-I’m about to…” and cried slowly into his ear.  My fingers gripped tightly into his flesh.  My mouth was desperate and bit down hard on his earlobe as I reached my climax.  My core vibrated and ran through my entire body, leaving me in chills in the hot desert heat.  My heart and breasts pounding hard against him.  Blood filled my cheeks and my head felt light enough to eventually fall into his shoulder.  

 

His speed picked up inside me and his grunts became more desperate and frequent.  His spoke sweet nothings through gritted teeth, “I love you… I need you… You....you’re-” A long and tired moan vibrated through his throat before his own release.  He clung at me desperately and held me, whining into my neck before sliding out of me, leaving a trail of cream to run down my inner thigh.  

 

His arms lowered me slowly to the table before he perked his head up again to stare into me, eyes now soft and sleepy.   

 

I looked back into his and grinned, “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” 

 

Trevor let out a long, “Haaah, I’d say fun, sure.”  He licked the sweat beading at the top of his lip and wiped his forehead with the the back of his hand.  “I’d say a lot of fun.”

 

“Now,” I stated through heavy breaths, “let’s go before I decide to chop your head off for touching me.”

 

“Ha,” he snorted and smiled, “You’re a real Mantis Queen, aren’t ya? A reptilian bitch.”

 

“Remember that.” I winked cruelly back at him.  

 


	4. Dirt Roads and Interstates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is given a chance to really prove herself on the battlefield, giving her a new sense of confidence for her upcoming heist with Trevor. However, that is immediately ruined during her first encounter with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stoked to be able to include one of my favorite bands in this chapter. Enjoy!

I no longer had to creep into bed with Trevor.  I was invited now.  In the midst of alcohol, smoke, and gasoline, Trevor and I rolled around on his tired mattress until one of us passed out.  Sweat seeped into the sheets and they were eventually thrown to the side of the bed.  We slept directly on the mattress, curled up into each other.  When we weren't fucking or fooling around, we'd drunkenly spew stories about our horrible and exciting pasts over booze and day old pizza.  I learned about Trevor's upbringing with his damaged parents.  Through blurry and glassy eyes, he'd tell me about his relationship with Michael.  I had been curious, but never had the courage to ask.  Trevor told me everything: Michael's lies and association with the FIB, Brad, his newfound home in Los Santos, and his devolution and love for his best friend.     
  
I usually kept my past to myself, but after hearing Trevor open up so freely to me, I felt obligated to let him in.  I told him about my sister dying when I was a teenager.  I told him about her addiction to heroine and the promises we had made across each other's knuckles.  I even told him about her boyfriend.  I was anxious revealing all of this information, but was then reassured to see my words being listened to.  Not judged.   
  


"She got pregnant by him.  It was only a matter of time, actually.  He provided both of us a place to stay.  As long as we sold his drugs and never came up short with the money, we could be live with him and eat and smoke as much as we wanted. It was really easy to get caught up… to get trapped.  We could try anything, do anything, and had to answer to no one. It was paradise."   
  
Trevor remained opened and accepting.  Usually, people would be either shocked, asked all the wrong questions, or just refuse to believe me.  Most wouldn’t understand my entrapment in this way of life.  But Trevor did.     
  
"She'd promise to get clean once she found out that she was gonna be a mother.  We both made a pact to get out of his place and get an apartment of our own.  We would take care of each other and get straight.  Make a good life for once."  Tears began to roll into my eyes.  I never spoke about her, but now I was confessing everything to a man I had known for less than a week.     
  
"He got word that we were trying to leave.” I continued, “He found that we had been hoarding apartment and job listings in a shoebox.  He went berserk when he found out."  Trevor's face was blank but open, listening.  "He got back at her the best way he could.  He offered some heroine to her, promising that it'd be the last take before the baby came.  He knew how to work her into doing anything he wanted."   
  
I laid there silent before I decided to speak again, "The next morning I found her on the bathroom floor. She promised she'd never leave me here in this shit hole, but she did.  Not even the baby inside her could saved her."  I started to stutter my words. Trevor traced my hairline with the back of his hand and slowly brushed his fingers through my hair.     
  
“I was alone now, so I picked up everything I could fit in a backpack, stole his Nemesis and hit the road.  I haven’t been in Liberty City since.”  It was all true.  Since then I've been able to keep out of his sights by laying low and hitting up the occasional general store for cash.  I kept running until I found myself on the outskirts of Los Santos.  My dreams of getting away from Liberty City and making a happy, dysfunctional family with my sister was long gone now.  My only option now was to keep going and make sure I don’t end up defeated like her.

 

I fell silent after telling him this, analyzing the weight of my words.

 

“What was his name?” Trevor spoke, breaking the silence. 

 

“What?” I snapped out of my conscience, “Who?”

 

“T-The  _ guy.   _ You’re piece of shit brother-in-whatever.”

 

“Daryl,” I replied, “My sister’s name was Arlene, but none of that matters now.”

 

Trevor spoke up again, “Don’t be so sure.  Things have a way of reappearing.” 

 

Trevor closed his eyes and rolled onto his back.  His words concerned me, bringing up fears that I’ve tried to hold back: paranoias of being killed by Daryl or one of his stooges doesn’t help me sleep soundly at night, no matter how far away I was.    
  


Next to Trevor, though, I was able to fall back asleep.  Even with thoughts of my Arlene and Daryl swirling in my head, I was able to feel safe enough to close my eyes.  

  
Trevor would whimper and grin his teeth during his sleep.  His nightmares would usually wake me up.  I'd shift over on his side and wrap my arms and legs over him in order to comfort him.  His growling would eventually stop and he'd sink his sweaty head into my chest.  I'd hold him like that until morning.  I felt useful in his arms.  Maybe I was actually saving him from old terrors plaguing his mind in some way.  Healing him.  Maybe we were both healing each other.    
  
He left early morning, as usual, to "go to the office.”  He always came up with some clever, unoriginal saying to tell me that he was going to be into some sketchy shit, and that I shouldn’t ask too many questions.  Today was different.  He told me that he was going to oversee some operation with his partner Chef and that he’d return shortly to drive us to Los Santos. My leg was finally healed enough to take on the heist.  I was ready to work.  Today I'd meet the rest of his Unholy Trinity, as he called it, and begin collecting plans and brainstorming for our score.    
  
While he was gone, I figured that I'd do some shopping at the nearby thrift store.  Trevor bought me some spare clothes, but they definitely weren't going to hold up during any type of action.  Plus, Trevor informed me that I'd have to dress formal for the first part of the mission.  Maybe I could find a decent-enough dress to wear.  

 

I remembered Trevor and Ron's warnings about the area.  Usually I'd shrug it off, but I decided to carry the pistol that Trevor gifted to me, just in case they happened to be right.    
  
I found a few essential pieces, but nothing that could be considered as formal, just a few good t-shirts and a pair of jeans.  I still had my jacket and my boots, the extra clothes were just luxury.     
Once I finished, I walked down the long, lonely dirt road to head back to Trevor's trailer.  It was almost mid-morning now, but the town of Sandy Shore still hasn't woken up yet.  In the distance, chopper motors were humming and getting louder.  The sound immediately reminded me of the motorcycle waiting outside of the trailer a few nights earlier.  A chill rode up my spine.  Perhaps my newfound relationship with Trevor wasn't as safe as I thought.    
  
Just a block before Trevor's street, the humming rung loudly in my ears and three bikers circled me and halted to step off their bikes.  I dropped my shopping bag and my hand hovered over my pistol stored in the back of my shorts.  As the bikers creeped towards me, I could read The Lost M.C. embroidered across their black leather jackets.     
  
_ Great. A meth gang… and they probably know exactly who I am.   _ _   
_   
"You've been runnin' with that Trevor Philips," one of them slurred as he stepped towards me, flipping a switch blade from his hand.     
  
Another spoke through a grey and black beard, "I bet he's fucking her.  He fucked my girl, you know."     
  
Before I could respond, the third rat chimed in to tell me, "Yeah, he's fucked plenty of The Lost girls.  I think it should be fair that we have a go at one of his own.  Huh, boys?"   
  
The rest of the men smirked at that suggestion.  One grabbed at his crotch to adjust himself.     
  
I was really in trouble now.  I knew how to deal with the bums back home; I've gotten myself out of plenty of mix ups before.  But these were a new breed of meth heads.  I had no idea of their level of insanity, but I knew I was going to have to fight either way.  I kept my hand hovering above my pistol, waiting to react.     
  
A violent hand grabbed at the back of my neck and jerked me backwards.  As instinct, my knee jolted back and rammed into my attacker's crotch   
  
__ "Right in the balls"    
  
My sister's old words echoed again.  The man behind me fell to his knees and I was able to whip out my gun and shoot at my attackers.  A burst of blood blew from the bearded man’s chest, sending him down.  My second shot landed directly between the eyes of the other in front of me.  A pool of blood grew around his head as soon as he dropped.  I turned around to face the third man behind me, still groaning on his knees.  I pointed the gun directly at the back of his head, but before I could pull the trigger I heard tires squealing behind me.  

 

I jerked my head around to see my next threat. 

 

_ More of that gang? _

 

Instead, it was the Bodhi, and a wave of relief washed over me.

 

“God damn they really don’t get the message, do they?” the familiar and hawking voice speared through the clouds of dust.  Trevor stomped out of his driver’s side and marched toward me and the pile of bodies I had just collected.  I still had my gun focused on my injured attacker.  

 

“Three grown men on one defenseless girl.  The Lost has  _ really  _ lost it’s touch, huh?” Trevor snorted.     
  


“I wouldn’t say defenseless.” I retorted and snapped the gun, finishing the man groveling at my heels.  The man lifelessly fell to the ground, still holding onto his groin.  

 

“Shit!  You’re fucking cold blooded! God damn, I love it.  You’ll fit in nicely down in LS, darlin’.”  

 

Trevor walked over the the remaining Lost member and squatted down beside him. 

 

“You and your hacks gotta get your shit together,” he whispered softly at the dying Lost biker, “It’s really embarrassing, for the both of us.”  Trevor stood back up and lifted his boot to stomped the man in his gunshot wound.  The biker screamed out in pain through bloodstained teeth.  Trevor hammered his foot again into the man’s core, ending him.  

 

Turning back to look at me he commanded, “Get your ass in the car.  We gotta hit Lost Santos before evening.”

 

Without hesitation, I hopped in the truck and we hit the road.  I asked Trevor about the bodies, but he quickly responded saying, “Ron will clean up this mess.”  He paused before saying again, “Glad to see that you can cover your own ass.  It’s a rare skill to have, y’know, being able to shoot down some fucker trying to kill you.”

 

I couldn’t help but to feel flattered, but I couldn’t let Trevor know that. I just stayed silent and leaned back in my seat, letting the wind from the road blow the dust off of me.  The highway in front of us eventually lulled me to sleep.  

____________

 

I woke up with a hard slap on my thigh.  My eyes burst open to see that the sky beyond Los Santos was glowing a rich orange.  We were entering the city now.   

I licked my lips and sleepily asked, “How long have I been asleep for?”  Trevor’s hand was still resting on my thigh, squeezing it tight.  

 

“Well, we’re pulling into LS now, so I’d say the whole fuckin’ time.  Do you know how boring you are when you’re unconscious?”

 

“Do you say that to all the unconscious girls you meet?” I grinned.  Trevor stayed silent and slide his hand further up my thigh before growling, “Mmmh, shut up.”

 

His fingers began pulling at my shorts, leaving me hints as to what he was thinking about.  My left hand stroked against his right arm and I pulled myself closer to him.  His hand crept up and began fiddling with the button of my shorts. To show him that I approved his touch, I lightly bit into his bicep that was brushing my cheek.  

 

Once my shorts were unclasped, Trevor’s hand fell inside and started to brush his palm against my wet core.  I slowly hummed in relief while Trevor’s eyes still focused on the road.  His only response was that familiar, cruel grin that would slowly appear across his face.  

 

The Bodhi rocked violently between lanes on the highway entering Los Santos.  The jolt caused me to snap back and realize where I was, and where Trevor’s hand was going.  

 

“Y’know this truck is open air, right? People around can still see us?” I whispered, trying to shift away from his arm.  

 

“Mmmm, is that what concerns you?” Trevor growled, still focusing on the road, “Are you asking me to quit?”

 

Just then a familiar guitar riff began to play over Channel X.

Trevor’s fingers slid downwards again and began rolling in my shorts.  The sensation caused my head to tilt back and I forgot my previous words. 

 

_ Don't you think it's time I let you know _ _   
_ _ Don't you think I should before you go _ _   
_ _ I'm not gonna let you get away _ _   
_ __ Cuz I want to fuck you night and day

 

The city lights overhead, the wind whipping through my hair, the screaming road rage, Trevor’s hand, The Descendents.  All was there to make me forget that I was fooling around on the open road for all of Los Santos to see.  I crawled closer to Trevor’s side and hung my head on his shoulder while his hand was still working on me.  I decided to return the favor and slid my hand over Trevor’s crotch, feeling the bulge aching hard against his jeans.  I unbuckled my seatbelt.

 

_ Don't you sometimes wonder what I want _ _   
_ _ Don't you sometimes think I just want your cunt _ _   
_ _ I'd hate to think that romance is just a pose _ _   
_ __ But all I want to do is rip off your clothes

 

I unbuttoned his jeans and lowered my head into his lap.  Trevor’s hand shifted from my crotch and rested on the top of my ass now that I was facing downwards.  I took his length into my mouth and began to bob my head up and down.  His cock was now throbbing inside my mouth. The fingers of his right hand dug into my ass in response to his satisfaction.   

 

Tensing up, he slid his hand up my back to grab a handful of hair on the back of my head before growling, “Do you want to change before we arrive?  I mean… don’cha want to strip out of those clothes?”  His grip grew tighter, pulling my hair harder, “I-I want you to take off your clothes.”

 

With my mouth busy at work, I was unable to see where we were going and I slightly jumped when the truck came to a stop.  My lips snapped tightly from Trevor’s cock and as I pulled my head up from his lap in order to look around.  We were on the side of the highway now, right next to a major exit in an abandoned parking lot.  On one side of the truck was the decaying concrete wall that supported the highway above us, the left side was an empty warehouse.  Besides the cars rolling high above us, the whole area was silent.  It was a perfect place to fuck around; no one will bother us here. 

 

_ I like to hold you in my arms _ _   
_ _ You know I wouldn't do you harm _ _   
_ _ I never take advantage in my book that's a sin _ _   
_ __ But somehow I find myself caressing your skin

 

Trevor took his fingers to wipe away the remaining salvia dripping from my lips and chin.  He held my chin in his hand before I swiped it away so that I could pull my shirt off over my head.  The shirt was dotted with bloodstains from the day’s earlier events.  I threw it on the floorboard of his truck. Now exposed in front of him, Trevor’s eyes tore into me and both of his hands reached to grab me; one cupped my breast and the other grabbed at the back of my neck, forcing me towards him.  Trevor’s mouth bit into mine, violently sucking and pulling at my lips.  His left arm clawed down my back and pulled at my shorts, lowering them well past my ankles.  My legs were now free to cross over him, allowing me to sit directly on his lap and face him.  My head loosely fell to his neck and I began to place my own marks and bruises upon his skin.  

 

Trevor’s ripped his hand from my chest and used it to guide his cock inside me.  As I sank around him, his head lifted back and his bottom lip disappeared behind clenched teeth.  My knees were placed around his vibrating thighs, allowing me to rock slowly on his lap.  My speed was intentional.  I enjoyed watching beast of a man melt in my arms as I aggravated and teased him.  

 

A hand clapped hard against my ass and gripped hard.  “You’re such a fuckin’ tease, y’know,” he roared through his teeth.  His eyes were wide up and scowling into mine.   He started to change pace, his hand conducting my hips to move to his speed.  His length filled me completely and my ass hit hard repeatedly against his thighs under me.  My muscles began to contract around Trevor’s dick and I felt my orgasm rising inside me.  My pace picked up even faster.  Small moans began to vibrate from my chest and through my mouth.  I bit Trevor’s lip in excitement.  His grip tightened as his own evil groans increased as well.  Just as I was reaching my point, a voice bursted out. 

 

“Good to see that you’ve been able to keep yourself busy while waiting for us to arrive.”  The voice calmly spoke from behind me.  Shocked, I jumped off Trevor’s lap and retreated to the passenger seat to recover myself with clothes from my shopping bag.  A well dressed, dark haired man around Trevor’s age was standing at the driver’s side of the jeep.  His attention was focused on Trevor.  

 

“Ahhh, couldn’t you see that I was  _ fucking  _ busy?” Trevor’s tone of voice was enraged and annoyed.  His scowl and pace of breath slowed down and a grin crossed his face.  He continued, “Or did you get too jealous and decided to cock-block me from having, huh, Mikey?”  

 

_ Mikey? _

 

“What the fuck?” I shouted, “Y-you  _ know  _ him?” I was confused, wondering why and how Trevor’s acquaintance just happened to stumble upon here.  As I frantically rushed to dress myself in the truck, I noticed another man walking into the warehouse.  A young black man looked over in our direction, shook his head and rolled his eyes and then proceeded to walk through the doors of the crippling warehouse.  

 

“A’right Michael, this is Scotty.  She’s our new partner.  Now are we gonna get started or what?” Trevor gruffed and opened the driver’s side door to step out in front of the strange new man.  

 

_ Ohhh, shit… so that’s him.   _ I stayed silent, still trying to process what was going on.  

 

Michael made sure to distract his eyes away from me while I was still getting dressed in the truck.  Only until I was fully clothed, he quickly looked me up and down before redirecting his attention back to Trevor, “ _ Partners,  _ huh?”  His waved his hand and shook his head before walking towards the warehouse, dismissing Trevor and I, and headed into the building.

 

My cheeks filled with blood in embarrassment.  I had this message to send to Trevor’s crew. I was experienced, skilled, and could handle anything given to me: I was going to be a valuable asset to them.  That was ruined now.  With one quick look, Michael judged me for what he saw: a whore that didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.  

 

“Why  _ the fuck  _ didn’t you tell me that they’d be showing up!?” I shot at Trevor as I jumped out of the truck.  

 

I wasn’t interested in his response.  I curled my hand into a fist and threw it across his jaw, causing his teeth to clap.  I kept my stride past him, leaving him behind to hold his mouth in his hand before calling out after me and yelling, “I-I….  _ You  _ fucking started it!”  

I didn’t answer.  I was too upset to engage in a fight there in the parking lot; my relationship with Trevor already made me look unprofessional to Michael.  I didn’t need any more bad attention on me.  I strode past him, increasing my distance as I entered the warehouse.  Now I really had to prove my independence from Trevor if the rest of the crew was going to respect me.

 

_ Fuck him!   _

  
  
  
  


  
  



End file.
